Killer Queen
by quizasvivamos
Summary: Blaine Anderson is a well-to-do, perfectly normal 24-year-old with no desire to step outside the bubble he has built around himself to keep the outside world from getting in and his inside world from getting out. On a whim, he visits a gay club one night where he sees a drag show in which the fabulous Elle Fabala performs, and he gets way more than he bargained for. Drag Queen!Kurt
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I wrote this fic for the Blaine Anderson Big Bang Fall 2014. klainiac (tumblr) is the artist who made the cover art, and she was a pleasure and so much fun to work with. :) I don't have much to really say about this story, because I believe it will speak for itself. Thank you for reading if you choose to, I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always greatly appreciated!

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><p>Every day was the same spiel: wake up, eat breakfast, grab coffee, go to work at his nine-to-five desk job, come home, sleep, and then do it all over again. The same regimen, precisely the same times every day. Blaine Anderson was what you would call comfortable; he lived in a spacious apartment in a nice part of New York City - a little place in the Upper East Side to be exact -, could afford to dress how he preferred, and always had food on the table. Yes, he was doing well for himself, and he had a few friends who came around every so often to keep him company.<p>

In fact, the mundane, monotonous routine was what kept Blaine going, it was the reason he could so absentmindedly go about his life, ignoring the things that threatened to eat at him, keeping them buried, pushed down deep below the surface. He was safe as long as he stayed within his four walls and never ventured out of the parallel, straight lines.

But one day, while standing in an unusually long line at Starbucks with too much time to think, Blaine daringly decided to switch up his coffee order:

"An extra shot of espresso, please."

He hadn't known why, but upon waking up, something had felt different about that day. And he'd worn a different pair of shoes, styled his hair in the opposite direction, and after he secured his morning coffee, he even took a detour through the park on his way to work.

Blaine could never have known that that detour would change his life forever.

Arms swinging rhythmically by his sides, Blaine shuffled along the walk, glancing around and enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on his face, his skin smooth and sensitive from a fresh shave. He turned his head to watch a child go running by, followed closely behind by an exasperated mother. The child screamed in delight, and Blaine chuckled to himself.

He turned his head again as he passed a bulletin board near the opposite end of the park, located right before the exit. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. Something had caught his eye, and Blaine glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was watching, before stepping up to have a better look. His eyes widened as he read, shifting from left to right and then stopping to study the flashy picture on the ad. It was a flyer for a drag show at a club not too far from the park and only a few blocks from his home.

Without giving it too much thought, Blaine pulled out his phone, took a snapshot of the info on the ad, and, as inconspicuously as possible, continued on his way to work.

Blaine inhaled deeply before plopping down into his chair at his desk, eager to continue the work on some newly acquired accounts he'd begun the previous day. As soon as he began reading, scanning, and shuffling through the paperwork, he felt balanced again, back in his element and at ease in his work. Soon enough, it was as if Blaine's brain was on cruise control, moving swiftly through familiar tasks.

"Knock knock," Sheila, his colleague who occupied the next office over, announced her presence as she leaned against the doorjamb. "Hey, Blaine."

Blaine looked up from the spreadsheets strewn across his desk. When he saw the brunette, he smiled, glad for the small reprieve from working all those numbers. "Hey. What's up?"

"You look different today. Did you do something with your hair?" Blaine nodded but said nothing. "It looks good," she said, with a warm smile. "So," she began hesitantly, "I know it's not really your thing, and I'm sure you're tired of me asking, but a couple of us are going out tonight for a few drinks, and I was wondering if you'd come along?"

"Oh, uh, Sheila," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm flattered as always, but I'm going to have to say no. But thank you." Blaine offered her an apologetic smile.

"Well, I just figured since it's Friday, you could really use a break..." She made a small indecipherable noise. "You're still young, Blaine, and you're going to work yourself to death." She appeared downtrodden by yet another rejection, but there was also some anger evident in her features.

"I'm sorry, Sheil," he said, and he really was, "but -"

"But you're not interested."

"Pardon?" Blaine said, taken aback.

"Forget it. I've done everything short of throw myself at you, and you'd rather spend your nights with a calculator. Am I not good enough for you?" She let out a frustrated groan and then a huff of annoyance. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I'm going to leave now before I embarrass myself further." She turned toward the door but then looked back over her shoulder. "Let me know if you change your mind." And then she walked out.

He wasn't completely oblivious. Blaine knew that ever since he'd been hired right out of college, Sheila had been pursuing him. Admittedly, she was gorgeous, intelligent, and had good taste in music from what he could tell when he caught snippets of her singing from her office next door when he was sure she thought no one could hear her. Blaine had even considered once or twice taking her up on her offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to say yes.

He also knew that there might be other potentially dangerous implications of his constant rejections of the women around the office, and Blaine almost obliged just to nip any rumors in the bud. All his coworkers knew he was single, and he was sure they talked about him behind his back, but he did his best to keep to himself and avoid the break room and other popular gossip hangouts to give them the least amount of fuel possible for their fire.

Sheila's tireless attempts were certain to escalate one day, but Blaine wasn't expecting what had just taken place. Perhaps it had been a result of his bold change of routine, like he'd messed with the balance of energy in the universe or something, though he wasn't superstitious and didn't really believe in any of that stuff. He felt a little guilty about the exchange, but he immersed himself in his work again, clouding his mind with a dust storm of numbers, successfully suppressing all feelings and thoughts.

Deciding that he had had enough adventure for one day, Blaine picked his routine back up after work, took the subway home, slipped out of his clothing, washed the gel out of his hair, ate dinner, and settled into bed for the night.

When he laid down, he felt a strange tugging feeling in his stomach, and he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and brought up the picture he had taken earlier. Suddenly, he felt like he was spiraling. Blaine's mind began to race, he felt irritable, restless. His routine had been the only thing to keep him going, but he knew that there was only so long that he could keep the demons at bay.

He grimaced as he laid on his back, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with his eyes. Only his internet history and his best friend knew his deepest secrets. Only they could completely break him.

Blaine knew for certain that he was attracted to men since he was fourteen. When he'd watch John Stamos on the television, he went to bed thinking dangerous thoughts. And he'd wake up feeling dirty, sometimes having soiled the bedsheets, a product of impure dreams. He heard the comments his father had often made about the 'fairies' on the television - especially when they'd run a news story about another beating, an occurrence not uncommon in the Midwest -, and sometimes he would opt for another word that made Blaine flinch and withdraw in on himself.

No. He couldn't be _that_. Blaine didn't want to be something the world looked so loathingly at, spat hateful words and phrases about like it was the worst thing a person could be. Blaine told himself that he could fix it, could fix himself, that he all he had to do was date girls, which was nearly impossible while he attended an all-boys private school during his formative high school years.

But when college rolled around, Blaine made a point to be social, often finding himself at frat parties, piss drunk and numb enough to talk up the first pretty girl he saw who, more times than not, would drag him to a private section of the house and make out with him; sometimes the girls even blew him, telling him that they wanted him to feel good. It did feel good - it felt _so_ good - but when they would kiss him after, mouth still tasting of the deed, Blaine would close his eyes and imagine the taste of another man. And when he'd wake up hungover the next morning, Blaine would curl up into a ball, his stomach sick from more than alcohol, and cry until he was a complete wailing, sobbing mess. He was lucky and incredibly grateful that his roommate and best friend, Jeff, never asked questions.

He knew he could only carry on in this manner for so long. The guilt and self-hatred were growing like tumors in his stomach, chest, and heart, threatening to spread to his brain. Being what he was wasn't an illness; concealing it like he had been would certainly lead to his demise. But the fear, the fear was too overwhelming.

Blaine looked back at his phone and stared at the information in the picture, clear enough to make out the dates and times.

_Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays..._

_The Roost..._

_9PM to 1AM..._

_...Join us!_

Blaine swallowed hard, closed out of the picture, and glanced at the clock at the top of the screen.

_9:37_

_Friday, May 22_

Had he really become that pathetic? Sheila was right about him: he was too young to have fallen into a dull and miserable pattern of work and very little play. And when exactly was he going to let himself be open to a relationship, possibly even love?

Blaine groaned, tossed his phone onto the bunched up comforter beside him, and ran his hands over his face, feeling light stubble that had grown in over the course of the day. He could do this. He could be adventurous and spontaneous for once. Couldn't he? It was like he was pressing the tip of a knife against his stomach, about to cut himself open to release the pressure inside. It could kill him, or it could be his saving grace. Blaine then made the decision that he would live a little, sustaining the first pierce of the menacing blade. Because what he had been doing all his life was anything but living.

Before he could talk himself out of it and change his mind, he flung himself out of bed, ran to his closet, and pulled out a few outfit options. After holding pieces up to himself in the mirror for a good ten minutes or so, Blaine decided on a pair of nice dress pants and a polo. He'd forgo the gel, he decided. It was only his intention to slip in, maybe have one drink, and then slip back out so he could collapse back into the comfort and security of his bed.

And then he slipped his shoes on, grabbed a jacket from the rack by the door, and left the apartment.

It only took him about fifteen minutes on foot to reach the club, and by the time he arrived, it was around 10:30 and the show was already in full swing. For this, he was grateful, because he was able to enter and find a seat undetected where he could remain relatively anonymous. The music was loud, and it took a few moments for Blaine's ears to adjust. The atmosphere was initially overwhelming and Blaine was stiff and uncomfortable, but after seeing man after man walk by in various forms of dress and undress, in men's and women's attire, he began to feel more at ease at his table in the dark corner. Beer would surely help too, and Blaine flagged down a server who seemed more than eager to be of assistance.

He had a good view of the stage, and after he ordered a drink, and then another, Blaine shifted in his seat to direct his attention toward the performance. The current act was at its end, and he watched as who he assumed was the MC took the stage.

"Luscious ladies and fabulous gentlemen, we're proud to announce our next performer who graces our stage only on Friday nights. You're surely in for a treat. Please put your hands together for the most fabulous bitch of the West, the amazing and wickedly talented Elle Fabala!" The MC bowed and dashed off the stage into the wing as the lights went down.

A spotlight flicked on, lighting up a perfect circle on the center of the curtain like a halo. Blaine didn't know why, but he felt his pulse quicken in anticipation, his fingers wrapped tightly around his glass, perspiration and condensation causing them to slip. Then out stepped the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on.

He stopped breathing. He was sure his heart forgot how to beat as well.

And his brain? What was functioning, anyway? What did any of it mean?

Metallic golden pumps. Long, slender legs. Blaine's eyes traced the slit of the dazzling emerald sequined gown, traveling upward until he reached the point of only-for-your-imagination. The gown hugged her hips, stretching tightly across an area which Blaine found difficult to look away from for a moment, and then his eyes continued their trek upward. The gown dipped in a deep 'v' down the center of her chest where smooth-as-marble, ivory skin was visible.

She lifted the mic up to her mouth. "Hello, all you beautiful people! Thank you, thank you for coming out tonight. I'm Elle Fabala, and I have a very special song for you all this evening and two very special ladies backing me up. Please welcome Ruby Redd," she stepped up by Elle's right, "and Emma Rald!" She gestured toward the third performer on her left.

Men and women began to hoot, holler, and whistle, and applause rose up around the club as all three ladies beamed from the stage. Blaine found himself clapping along, but his eyes remained fixed on Elle.

The first few notes of the music began to trickle out into the room, and Blaine was entranced, felt hypnotized by the way her mouth moved, the way she shimmied her hips and shoulders, the way the voluminous ringlets of her golden-blonde wig bounced as she moved and how they perfectly framed her round, delicate face.

_"Though I may look the same way to you,_

_Underneath there is somebody new..._

_I am not_

_The boy next door..."_

He was under her spell. Her voice was like what he imagined the majestically brilliant, rare flame lily to have if it had a song to sing. The words became meaningless and lost on Blaine as he watched in a daze, their eyes meeting once or twice - but perhaps it was only his imagination. And then the music ended, almost too abruptly, and the room roared with applause. Elle took a bow along with her backup performers and then stepped down from the stage.

Blaine redirected his gaze back down into his drink, hiding his head and taking long, consecutive swigs of the amber liquid.

It wasn't until he heard that unmistakable voice again, the one that would soon haunt his dreams, only inches away from him now, that he looked up into...

"Hello there, honey..."

Striking grayish-blue eyes, like thin ice over the deepest of blue swirling waters...

_Danger. Abort, Blaine, abort._

...with flecks of amber and green that matched her gown and heels.

"Sweetie?"

"Oh, uh, h-hi," Blaine said, a bundle of nerves. He wiped his hands on his pants and rose from his chair, extending his hand in business-like manner. Elle gave him a quizzical look and laughed, and he let his hand fall back and then slumped back down into the chair like a fool. She stepped closer to his table, placing a palm down on its surface, the other on her hip, and leaned forward.

"I saw you watching me quite intently while I was up there," she began. "I've never seen you around here before."

"I've never been, been here before, I mean," Blaine stammered.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Blaine could only manage to nod continually until his brain caught back up to him and he stopped. He swallowed thickly, his entire body beginning to heat like a furnace. How was this person reducing him to a completely helpless puddle of goo?

"My name's Blaine," he finally spoke up. "And you're Elle...?"

"That would be correct," she said, winking. "Elle Fabala. The one and only."

"But - I know that's your stage name, but what's your real name?"

Elle clicked her tongue, shook her head, and waggled her finger at him. "That, my dear, is a secret. You really are new here." She placed her hands on her hips and appeared to be studying Blaine for a moment, making him feel exposed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean -"

"It's okay. We all have to learn somehow." Then she leaned in again, now pressing both palms against the tabletop, coming dangerously close to Blaine. He could smell her perfume, sweet like honey with a hint of floral. "I'll tell you what. If you stick around until after I'm officially off the clock, then I might just tell you my name."

"Are you really going to tease me like that?" Blaine said without thinking. Then he mentally slapped himself.

"Okay, fine. I'll give a little, but only because I like you. You're cute." Elle leaned in closer, bringing her mouth to Blaine's ear. He could feel her hot breath against his skin, and it sent a pleasant tremor through his body. She parted her lips and whispered one single syllable that left Blaine breathless and made his heart skip a beat: "_Kurt_."

Then with a mischievous grin, Elle backed up, keeping her eyes fixed on Blaine, and then made her way to the bar.

Blaine watched Elle - _Kurt_ - with a new kind of awe and hunger.

His ship had fissured when he first set eyes on the drag queen, a temptress, a Siren. The captain had abandoned the vessel, leaving him to crash and sink into the merciless depths. But drowning felt good. He'd always heard that death by drowning was the best way to go...one enters a state of absolute euphoria right before their heart stops beating and their brain shuts down.

Blaine's eyes shamelessly followed Elle as she made her way back toward the dressing rooms, and he knew that she knew he was watching her. He swallowed more water down, feeling the pressure in his lungs. Elle turned around one last time and grinned. Pink lips stretched thin that screamed _tease_, curling up at the corners and framed by dimples...canyons. Blaine was falling, breaking through the ice of her eyes, drowning, teetering on the edge of the cliff of her beauty, about to dive head first into the bottomless depths...and then Elle licked those lips, and Blaine felt his stomach do a somersault and the blood make an exodus from his head, mercilessly traveling South.

Blaine set his glass back down, threw a generous tip on the table, and quickly rose from his chair.

Blaine Anderson had taken a life-altering detour that day, had dared to act on his curiosities, to leave his comfort zone. And nothing had ever felt so good - so _right_. He would never be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

"I need to talk to you," Blaine said hurriedly into the phone. "Can you come over, like, right now?"

"Whoa, calm down. Are you alright?"

"No. I'm going out of my mind. I just," he groaned. "Please, Jeff?"

"Yeah, no problem, Anderson. I haven't seen you in a while anyway, and I miss your face. I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Thank you so much." He paused and took a deep breath. "Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, Blaine. Hang tight. I'll see you."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Blaine stood in the center of his kitchen, still holding the phone up to his ear before finally lowering it and setting it on the counter.

Arms tightly, almost painfully, wrapped around himself like he was holding himself together, Blaine paced back and forth, back and forth until he finally grabbed the back of a chair, pulled it out from the table, and dropped down heavily into it. Blaine placed his head in his hands, his leg shaking and foot tapping anxiously under the table, as he sorted through the chaos in his head, all the swirling thoughts about Elle, Kurt, the gay club, Sheila, and then finally Jeff and how he'd be arriving in a matter of minutes.

His head shot up when there was a knock on the door, and Blaine made haste to let in his guest.

"I brought beer," Jeff said, lifting up the cardboard holder as he slid the black plastic bag from around it. He set the six-pack on the counter and pulled out two bottles, popping Blaine's cap off for him and handing it over, before helping himself to his own.

Blaine took a few sips, feeling the malted beverage flow down into his empty stomach.

"What's going on with you," Jeff finally asked, but Blaine was staring down at a spot on the floor, quiet and calculating.

He lifted his head. "I'm gay, Jeff. I'm so gay," Blaine said bluntly.

Jeff sipped his beer without batting an eye at the statement, his expression unwavering. "I know. This is nothing new."

Blaine took a step to the side and leaned against the counter, clutching his bottle close to his chest. "It's not new. But it hasn't been that much of an issue until recently."

Jeff gave him a knowing look. They both knew that it had been tearing Blaine up inside all these years, worsening the longer he remained hidden in the closet. It had always been an issue.

"You're the only one who knows," Blaine continued, running his hand through his hair. "At least I think so, and I did something - I did something incredibly stupid, and I think I really fucked up." He shifted from one foot to another, his movements almost frantic.

"What happened to you?" Jeff asked, reaching his free hand out to still Blaine. "You're freaking out, and it's scaring me."

"I don't know what got into me. I went out the other night on a whim. I just - I went out to a gay club, and I watched a drag show."

The blond stared in fascination at Blaine, his mouth turning up into a small grin. "Hm. That_ is_ very out of character for you." He climbed onto a stool at the counter, setting his beer down with a faint clink. "I'm proud of you. Why didn't you invite me?" Jeff joked, playfully nudging Blaine's arm.

"Are you serious? Never mind." Blaine began to pace the kitchen, and Jeff watched him from his perch on the stool.

"Are you going to tell me what happened while you were there? Or am I expected to let my imagination run wild? Believe me, I'm sure what actually happened is a lot more tame than what I can come up with."

Blaine stopped and glared at him. "There was a queen there named Elle. Well, Kurt, but Elle is her - his - stage name."

"I see."

"I've never met anyone so beautiful before."

"Are we becoming shallow, Blaine?"

"No, I -"

"I'm kidding. Shut up - for your own good. So, you went to this club, met a guy dressed as a woman, and fell head over heels for him. Of course, he was the one in the heels, am I right?"

Blaine huffed in annoyance but then sat down on the stool next to Jeff, slouching in defeat. "Yeah." He brought his beer to his mouth, gulping it down rapidly.

"Ask him out."

Blaine nearly spit out his beer all over Jeff. "What?! I can't! You know that, Jeff. No one at work knows I'm gay, my family doesn't know...how am I supposed to date someone when I'm not out? I'm not doing it."

"You're unhappy, Blaine."

"Stop, you don't -"

"It kills me to see you like this, and I understand that you're not ready and you're scared, but I want you to think about it. Maybe you could come out soon...?" Jeff's eyes were full of concern, not pity, and Blaine allowed himself to consider his friend's words.

"I know you mean well, but it's just not going to happen. You know how long it took me just to tell you, and I already know my father will disown me." A lump began to form in Blaine's throat, and he felt like he was choking on his words. "I've been working my ass off just to keep him off my back and to mold myself into what I'm supposed to be. It's just - it's not fair. Nothing is fair." Blaine's eyes began to well up with tears, and he sniffed, blinking hard to keep them in. "I'm sorry. God, I'm such a mess."

"I'm not going to pressure you, but I think you're a grenade with the pin pulled, onedropaway from an explosion. And when you do blow up, it's not going to be pretty. I say these things because I care about you, Blaine. I wish you could see that."

"No, I know, I know." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll figure it out."

"You're planning to go see him again, aren't you?" Jeff asked.

"Yes," Blaine admitted, his voice cracking.

"Must have been a really good show."

"It was."

"Don't get into anything that's going to hurt you, Blaine. More than anything, I want you to go, to break out of your shell and live a little. But don't fall too hard...don't make things harder on yourself. Please."

"I won't. I just - I want to see him again. That's all."

"Well, I've gotta get going. I would love to stay, but I have to work an early shift. Let me know what happens...?" Jeff smiled as he stood up, in his eyes, a question.

"I will. Definitely."

He reached out, leaned forward, and hugged Blaine, wrapping him in a tight embrace for just a little longer than usual, and then pulled away.

When the door of Blaine's apartment clicked closed upon Jeff's departure, the remainder of the six-pack still sat on the counter, ever so tempting. Blaine eyed the four bottles warily, chugged the rest of the beer from the bottle in his hand, and then reached over to pop the cap off another to drink it down despite the sour feeling in his stomach.

-s-

As the weekend drew nearer, Blaine grew more anxious. When he woke up on Friday morning, he practically hopped out of bed, rushing right into his routine, almost as if the faster he moved, the faster the time would pass. But it only made him a half hour earlier to work than usual, the time still crawling along at its usual snail's pace.

He daydreamed his way through paperwork and knew that he had been on two phone conferences but couldn't remember for the life of him what had been discussed during each one.

But a distraction had never been so welcome, so wonderful.

When he arrived home that evening, his belly was so atwitter from nerves that he had no appetite, but he forced himself to eat a bagel and a few veggie crisps. He knew he needed something in his stomach or he might become sick.

This time around, Blaine took almost an hour putting together an outfit and styling his hair because he felt the need to make an impression. He didn't know anything about the other man yet, but Kurt was already making him think and do crazy things, making him feel terrifying things he hadn't before.

And at 8:30PM on the dot, Blaine left his apartment.

The trip to the club was a blur, and Blaine quickly found his same seat from his previous visits, happy to have made it before the show was scheduled to begin. He opened a tab at the bar and ordered his first drink, which he downed way too quickly. His virtually empty stomach sent the alcohol straight to his bloodstream and into his brain, and Blaine, against his better judgment, ordered another drink, deciding he would nurse this one. The last thing he wanted was to make himself sick, but he still needed to drink to relax.

People were bustling about the club, and Blaine noticed that some of the performers were wandering around as well. His heart immediately picked up its pace when he felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe Kurt was out here somewhere. But where? He looked around, trying not to appear desperate, but then the lights dimmed, and the MC came out to start the show.

"You're back."

Blaine jumped at the familiar voice and turned in his seat to see none other than Elle. "Yeah, I am."

"Did you know it was my birthday?" she purred. "Well, my birthday was on Wednesday, but everyone knows the weekend is for celebrating."

"Really? Happy, um, belated birthday. Aren't you supposed to be backstage right now?" Blaine asked. He didn't know why he asked that, but he just didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sort of a very important person, you see? I can go where I please and do what I please," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I've got something special planned for tonight. Two songs that I hope you'll find to your liking." Just then, she booped Blaine on the nose with her index finger and playfully scrunched her face at Blaine's startled reaction. "Relax, sweetheart. Why are you so jumpy?"

"I'm not. I just wasn't - I'm not used to -"

"Being touched? I apologize. I get a little carried away sometimes. The regulars here are used to me, but I guess I need to behave myself."

"No, you're fine," Blaine said. He paused to take in Elle's costume of the night. She was adorned in a chiffon sapphire gown with a lace overlay and rhinestones on the fitted bodice. The slit in the skirt ran even higher this time, and Blaine tried desperately not to stare at her exposed thigh.

"You're not so bad yourself," she jested, noticing Blaine's roaming eyes. "I'd love to stay and chat with you, darling, but I'm up in a few. Hope you enjoy yourself." With that, she turned, and Blaine watched her hips sway side to side as she strutted so precisely in her silver heels, better at it and more poised than any woman he had seen on the street or in the office. It was admirable. And then she was gone, and he felt like a child whose favorite toy had just been ripped away from him.

Blaine drank through the next act, and then the MC resurfaced and took the stage to announce the featured performer of the evening.

"Tonight, our next very important lady is paying tribute to the late Freddie Mercury, a man we all adore so very much, our Queen of queens, who lives on forever in our hearts. Please welcome the Wicked Bitch of the West, Elle Fabala!"

"Hello, boys," she said over the raucous applause and catcalls. "Settle down now. You don't want to get too excited." She winked. "Shall I jump right in?" More cheers went up, and the music started.

Elle sang her way through Killer Queen without missing a word or a beat, and Blaine was impressed. He tapped his foot in time and stared, head in hand and mind comfortably numb from the drinks. Then she transitioned right into her second song, and Blaine felt like the floor suddenly dropped out from beneath him.

_"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things_

_We can do the tango just for two_

_I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings_

_Be your Valentino just for you_

_Ooh love - Ooh Loverboy_

_What're you doin' tonight, hey boy -_

_Set my alarm, turn on my charm_

_That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy..."_

Then Elle looked directly at him, their eyes locking, as she sang the next verse. Blaine's body was on fire, his heart beating to burst in his chest. God, he didn't know if it was just his alcohol-addled mind, but he was letting the song pour into him, those eyes, those lips, chest, legs... He wanted to touch, to feel. Blaine's eyes locked on Elle's mouth as she sang out the final chorus, and he'd never felt so lustful in his life. He wanted to jump up from his seat, leap onto the stage, and press his mouth to hers, take her right there.

_No. No. Stop._

He closed his eyes, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Blaine bit down on the inside of his mouth and tried to will away the unwanted thoughts. He wanted to feel it, but he couldn't let himself feel it. When he opened his eyes, Elle was already making her rounds, visiting each table and chatting with the guests.

Then he saw her lean down, just like she had done with him before, and whisper something into a man's ear. And he laughed.

Blaine felt like he had just swallowed acid. His stomach convulsed, and his mouth tasted bitter. Was this jealousy? Was he really jealous over a stranger in drag?

Her heels clicked on the floor nearby, and then Elle was at Blaine's table again. He felt himself exhale in relief. All her attention was on him now, her flirtations for only him.

"Are you having fun?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I am. Are you? I mean, because it's your birthday and all," Blaine said.

"Honey, this is what I live for. Performing. I'm having the time of my life. But since you mentioned it, there's one little birthday wish that hasn't come true...yet." There was that mischievous grin again, and Blaine couldn't take it.

"What would that be?" he asked, playing along.

"Well, you see, there's this cute new patron who's been in here to see me the past two weeks, and it would just make all my twenty-five years worth it if he would give me his phone number - as a birthday present, of course."

"R-really?" Blaine gulped.

"Really." Elle paused for a second, and then her voice dropped about an octave. "You are gay, aren't you? I'm so, so sorry if you're not. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Yeah, yeah I am, I'm gay. So gay," Blaine said again.

Elle laughed, her voice a high treble again. "Good. You made me so nervous for a second there, had me worried."

Blaine just stared for a moment as it all seeped into his foggy brain and settled, the situation fully registering. Phone. Phone number. Elle - _Kurt_ - wanted his phone number. Gay. So gay. Oh god, he must have sounded like such an idiot. But that was the first time he had admitted that outside of himself and Jeff. But what good would it do him to start talking to Kurt? All he knew was that he wanted to, and in his current state, not much was inhibiting him.

Then Elle cocked her head to the side and was pouting. "Was I too forward? Are you alright?"

Her voice stirred Blaine from his momentary mind lapse, and his hands shot down to his pocket, scrambling for his phone. Then Elle smiled again, a slight blush creeping up her neck and through the artificial kind on her face.

"Here - is there a - can you just give me yours, and I'll text you?" Blaine asked.

"Sure." She took his phone out of his hands, entered her number, and then took the liberty of texting herself. "There. I saved you the trouble and sent the text just in case you ended up forgetting." Elle handed the phone back.

"I wouldn't forget," Blaine said. He looked down at the screen, his head swimming, and then the full name came into focus. "Kurt Hummel," he said aloud, but too quiet for anyone to overhear.

"I hear he's a fine gentleman," she said in response. "He's been a little lonely lately, what with being busy with work, more work, and life, but he would love some company, a friend. Perhaps something more."

Blaine's fingers moved across the screen as he typed his full name into a text along with a short message and then hit send.

"I don't expect you to hang around until the night ends. I can tell you're a little tired. How about I call you a cab, and you go home and get some sleep," she suggested.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Blaine was exhausted, but mostly, he knew he needed to stop drinking and call it a night. That was also Kurt's way of telling him much of the same, and that little bit of concern sent his heart soaring.

Elle grabbed her phone, called a cab as she had offered, and saw Blaine off. When Blaine arrived home, he couldn't remember exactly how he had gotten there, but he paid the cab fare, got out, and ambled into his apartment building and into the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor, and then all that was on his mind was Elle. Kurt Hummel. Elle Fabala. So beautiful. Wickedly beautiful...talented. Her voice like an angel's voice. His head was spinning when it hit his pillow, a rapid whirlwind, and he closed his eyes. Seconds later, Blaine was leaning over the bed, clutching the wastebasket, and puking into it.

When he was done, he groaned and rolled over before promptly passing out.


	3. Chapter 3

10:14 AM

_**hey there, Mr. Blaine Anderson. I hope you're feeling okay.**_

Blaine blinked a few times, staring groggily at the text that just came through. He typed out a quick reply.

10:15 AM

_yeah I'm good._

10:15 AM

_**that's good. you had maybe one drink too many last night, and I was concerned.**_

10:17 AM

_I'm fine._

10:18 AM

_**you are certainly a man of many words.**_

10:18 AM

_?_

10:19 AM

_**I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone if you want me to.**_

10:19 AM

_no you don't have to_

10:20 AM

_**well, thank you for coming to my show again. maybe I'll see you again there soon...?**_

10:25 AM

_maybe_

Kurt never texted back, and Blaine knew he had screwed everything up already.

Blaine groaned as he pulled himself up into a sitting position in his bed. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck, and his whole body was achy, his tongue, heavy and like sandpaper in his mouth. He held his head in his hands before allowing them to fall to slap against his bare thighs.

Water. He needed water.

Luckily, he'd always kept a bottle of it on his nightstand, and Blaine leaned over with another lengthy groan, his fingers stretching out until he successfully grasped the bottle filled with the antidote that would make him feel less like a dried up slug on the pavement.

Once he managed to pull himself out of bed and started his routine, Blaine began to feel a little less crispy creepy crawly and a little more human. But he knew he'd be anything but productive today, so, mug of coffee in hand, Blaine settled down onto the couch and switched on the television.

He watched the moving images on the screen with unfocused eyes, his mind elsewhere. Halfway through his coffee, which was a bit too bitter for his liking, it dawned on him.

Blaine was alone. He was so pitifully alone. And who could he really blame but himself?

Later on in the day, when he was feeling particularly emboldened, Blaine texted Kurt again, feeling bad about how he had left him hanging earlier.

4:46 PM

_hey_

4:47 PM

_**hey...I thought I scared you off already...**_

4:47 PM

_no. I'm sorry. I was just busy._

4:48 PM

** _oh._**

4:48 PM

_yeah_

4:51 PM

_**are you busy tonight? me and a few friends are going out to celebrate my birthday and you're more than welcome to join us...that is, if you want**_

4:52 PM

_that sounds nice_

4:52 PM

_can I bring a friend?_

4:53 PM

_**sure :)**_

Kurt sent Blaine the details of place and time, and Blaine sat there for a moment before he deleted the entire string of texts and set his phone aside. There was no way he was going out somewhere with Kurt, group of friends or not. Jeff had warned him not to go back to the club, knowing exactly what he was getting himself into, but Blaine was stubborn. And he was also apparently a complete coward.

-s-

When Blaine didn't show up at the restaurant, he knew he wasn't going to be let off so easily. But Kurt didn't text him that night, and he didn't text him the next day either. Blaine figured that perhaps he had gotten the message, but he didn't mean to hurt Kurt's feelings.

It wasn't until Blaine didn't show up at the club the following weekend that Kurt finally texted him.

11:23 PM

_**I know I'm probably coming off as desperate, but I really was hoping to see you**_

11:24 PM

_I'm sorry. I was busy._

11:25 PM

_**I pulled out all the stops and flirted pretty hardcore with you, can't you just humor me?**_

11:25 PM

_I didn't mean to stand you up, I was just..._

Blaine stopped typing because he wasn't sure exactly what he "just" was. He didn't have any real excuse, at least, not one good enough to let someone down like he had, someone he was really beginning to like.

_...I was scared._

11:27 PM

_**scared? I promise I'm not a serial killer and I don't bite.**_

11:27 PM

_no, Kurt. it's not that._

11:27 PM

_** ok.**_

11:30 PM

_nvm. what time do you get done tonight?_

11:31 PM

_**in about an hour.**_

11:31 PM

_k _

-s-

Blaine was leaning up against the hard stone wall of the building when Kurt stepped out onto the sidewalk, devoid of any traces of his female persona. It was like he was a magician, had lifted a sheet and undergone a complete transformation from a gorgeous queen to a handsome yet still beautiful man. Blaine swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he watched how the moonlight shone off Kurt's milky skin and how his blue eyes caught and held the lamplight from those that lined the darkened street.

He finally gathered himself and found his voice again. "Kurt."

Kurt turned, a grin almost immediately stretching across his face when he spotted Blaine in semi-shadow. "Well, hello there, Mister Anderson. You look dapper tonight, and it's nice to see you not drinking in a dark corner - you haven't been drinking, have you?" Kurt said, leaning in a bit, almost as if he was about to sniff at the air by Blaine.

"No, no," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I just -"

"You 'just' a lot, don't you, Blaine." Kurt's smile fell a bit, and the twinkle in his eyes faded as he stepped to the side and away from the door. "Listen, Blaine. If you're not interested, it's okay to tell me. I know I can be a lot to handle and hard to explain to friends and the parentals. But I'd rather you just be honest with me so we can end this before anyone gets hurt."

"Kurt," Blaine said again, but he was still at a loss for words. "Will you walk with me?"

"I'd love to. So..." Kurt began as they walked a few paces, falling into step with each other, "I didn't expect you to show up. What's going on, Blaine? You said you were scared? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but what exactly is it that you are scared of?"

"I think I was intimidated by you," Blaine said, which wasn't a complete lie. "I wasn't ready to see you outside of the club."

"I guess I understand," Kurt said. "I didn't mean to push you like that."

"You didn't. To be honest, Kurt, I haven't been out on a date in a long time, and I don't think I was ready."

"A date?" Kurt grinned slyly. "You think I was asking you on a date, Blaine?"

"You - you weren't? Oh, god, I'm such an -"

"Relax, I was just kidding," Kurt said. "I really like you, Blaine. I mean it. I'm really into you, as silly as that may seem, and, yes, I was asking you out, but I was trying to make it less weird - or scary - by inviting you out with a group of friends."

"Oh."

"Can I try again? I'll be clearer with my intentions this time. Will you go out on a date with me, Blaine Anderson?" Kurt said. "And please say yes, because you might break my heart if you say no after all of this coming to see me and waiting outside for me like a gentleman."

"I - I really like you too, Kurt, but I don't know..."

"You're killing me, Blaine. You come to the club, you charm the pants off me, you tell me you're gay, and you flirt back despite my flamboyant alter ego and...please just say yes."

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Really," Blaine said. "But -"

"So many buts and not the kind I like. Joke! Sorry...but what is still holding you back? Are there conditions to this date?" Kurt asked.

"Can I pick where we go?" Blaine asked.

"Sure. Whatever you want," Kurt said.

"Can I have some time to think about it - about where I want to go and when?"

"Of course," Kurt answered. "Just don't keep me waiting too long because I don't think I can wait much longer to see you again."

"Where did you learn to be such a smooth talker?" Blaine asked. "You always know exactly what to say, and it seems so sincere."

"It is sincere. I didn't used to be like this. In fact, I had to hide a lot of what I was thinking and feeling growing up. But New York was like stepping into new skin, becoming a swan from an ugly duckling, and look how that turned out." He laughed. "Now I'm not afraid to be exactly who I am, to do what I feel, and to tell people that I find them interesting, breathtakingly handsome, and want them to be a part of my life."

Blaine was grateful for the darkness because he could feel himself flushing red. "I wish I knew your secret. I don't know how to let go or to just say or do what I'm feeling."

"Give it a try," Kurt said. "Ask me anything."

"Uh, alright," Blaine said. "How did you get into the whole drag thing?"

Kurt chuckled. "Hm, do you want the long story or the short?"

"Tell me everything," Blaine said.

"If you insist. When I was three years old, I would watch my mother do her makeup and get ready to go to work or out with friends. My father came home one day to me parading around the house in my mother's heels and one of her blouses. Apparently, I asked for a pair of my own," Kurt said.

"Did he get mad at you?" Blaine asked.

"No, not at all. In fact, he claims that that's when he knew I was gay. I came out to him when I was sixteen, but he'd known almost my entire life. Ever since, he's been supportive and loved me in spite of it all."

"So you really became a drag queen because you used to play dress up when you were a child?"

"Not really. That all happened a little later on in life, and I don't think they're connected at all. In high school, I really broke out of my shell when it came to my love of performance. While a conservative public high school in a small-minded town wasn't conducive to fully being myself, I was lucky enough to be part of a show choir that mostly allowed me to express myself in ways I wouldn't otherwise have been able to. But when I came to New York, something shifted. No more did I get tormented for wearing a shirt made and marketed to women, knee-high boots, skirts...whatever I wanted to wear, I could, and I - It was liberating, and this drag thing, it's not just for show, it's a part of me."

"But your parents have always been okay with it? With you being gay and doing what you do?"

"My dad has - my mother died when I was eight," Kurt said.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said.

"That's life though, isn't it? Everyone's always apologizing to me, but death is a part of life, and I came to terms with it years ago. I'm okay," Kurt said, smiling again at Blaine to convince him.

"I'm glad you had a supportive family." He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping, and then he fell silent.

"Is something wrong, Blaine?" Kurt asked, stopping suddenly. He grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him. "If you're tired and you want to go home, you can tell me. It won't hurt my feelings."

"Okay, I'll be honest. I am a little tired, but it was really great to see you again and to talk to you," Blaine said. "I think I should go home now though."

"Alright. But don't forget to get back to me about that date. I talked a lot about myself tonight, and next time we meet, I want to hear more about you," Kurt said. "Can you promise me you'll do me that honor?"

"I promise," Blaine said, and he immediately wished he had eaten his words.


	4. Chapter 4

When Blaine ran into Sheila in the hall on the way to his office, he stopped her, unsure of what had prompted him to do so. His mind had been on nothing but Kurt and the impending date, and perhaps a friendly, familiar face would bring him some comfort.

"Hey, um, how have you been?" he asked cordially.

"I've been good."

"That's good to hear."

An awkward silence hung in the air between them.

"Listen, I - can I ask you for advice about something?"

She wrapped her arms around herself and jerked her head to flip her long, dark hair over her shoulder. "Sure. What is it?"

"There's this g-girl I know, and I think I'm really starting to like her," he began. Sheila seemed to relax, and her interest was piqued.

"Oh, I see," she said. "So what do you think I could help you with?"

"I want to take her out, but I'm having a hard time gathering the courage. I don't know where to take her, and I want it to be, well, intimate."

"I'm sure wherever you take her, she'll love it," Sheila nearly purred, her eyes softening.

"You really think so?"

"I know so. You're really charming, Blaine, and any girl would be lucky to have you regardless of where you take her. However, may I suggest Buvette on Grove Street? It's one of my favorite haunts, but I don't get to go there very often. It's French cuisine. The wine menu is to die for and goes on for days. The atmosphere is nice too, or, _intimate_ as you'd have it."

"Okay. Thank you." He was quiet in contemplation for a moment. "That sounds good. I think I know what I need to do now."

"Good luck," she said, beaming. "And buy her flowers. That works wonders."

"Thank you again, Sheil," and he turned to enter the doorway of his office, looking back once at her with a smile before leaving her sight.

Once inside his office, Blaine realized how much of a liar he was becoming, too afraid to even mention Elle and of course not Kurt. Sheila had seemed genuine during their encounter, and he was glad there were no hard feelings between them. Blaine thought about everything she'd said. He wasn't really taking a woman out, but would her advice still apply? He couldn't be sure.

But then it hit him, and his head snapped up. What if he hadn't been lying? What if he took Elle out, took Kurt out as his female persona? He felt crazy for thinking it, but no one had to know that Kurt was a man. He was passable, his beauty and feminine mystique very convincing, and Blaine knew he himself had been passing his entire life. So he'd take a woman out after all like a normal man. He would just have to take the risk and ask.

-s-

"I didn't expect you to come in before you texted me about the date," Elle said, placing her hands on her hips.

"I wanted to see you and ask you out in person," Blaine said, exuding a strange confidence he'd not possessed before.

"You're asking me out? Moi?" She pressed her hand against her chest.

"Yes. I want to take you out somewhere nice, somewhere quiet," Blaine said. "Buvette in the West Village? Or would you prefer Italian or Thai...?"

"Buvette sounds lovely," she said, batting her fake lashes, which had tiny rhinestones in them this evening.

"I have a strange request though," Blaine said, growing quiet. He wasn't sure how Kurt would take this, and he really hoped that he wouldn't upset him.

"What is it?"

"I'm asking you out, Elle," Blaine said.

Elle quirked a perfectly penciled eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Is it weird if I admit to you that it's sort of a kink of mine?"

Elle paused, pursing her lips in contemplation. "So what you're saying is that you want to go out with me but not really with me?"

"No, I want to take you on a date, but it's a turn on when you're in drag," Blaine said, his voice growing gruff.

"I've never had a guy ask me to do that before," Elle said. But after another a moment of amused reverie, she smiled wide, almost impishly. "What time will you be picking me up, loverboy?" Elle asked.

"Tomorrow night at seven?" Blaine said, gaining a bit more confidence.

"I can't wait for you to wine and dine me. I'll be dressed to kill, and I expect you to be on time. You can't keep a lady waiting after all. Clearly, you aren't bothered by a woman who's taller than you. Perhaps I will do you a favor and not wear heels," Elle said.

"You're beautiful no matter what you wear," Blaine said. "I'll wear a suit and tie and be the perfect gentleman. I'll even buy you flowers."

"I'm impressed. How romantic. But know that I might not kiss on the first date," Elle said. "A proper lady doesn't." She winked.

Blaine couldn't believe Kurt was agreeing to all of this. He had thought it so farfetched when he came up with the idea in the first place, and now here Kurt was playing along, roleplaying along flawlessly.

He might let himself feel guilty about it later, but he knew that Kurt was beautiful enough to pass as a woman, and then maybe he could date Kurt without it appearing like he was out with a man, thus keeping his cover intact.

"You promised to tell me about yourself the next time I saw you, and here you are," Elle said. "But I'm up in a few, so I'll take a raincheck. You better not run out on me, honey."

"I won't," Blaine said.

"Good."

Two drinks and five songs later, the room was spinning around Blaine's head and Elle was seated across from him, batting her long, glittering lashes, her chin balanced on her hands, elbows resting on the tabletop.

"So, mystery man, where are you from?" Elle asked.

"You've probably never heard of it," Blaine said.

"Try me."

"Westerville, Ohio," Blaine said.

"No way," Elle nearly gasped, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I'm from Ohio, too. A sad little town called Lima."

"You're lying."

"I'm being completely honest. You think I could make something up like that?"

"I guess not," Blaine said.

"Well, well, well," Elle said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. "What are the odds? We could have crossed each others' paths and never knew it."

"I don't know, I guess it's possible."

"Isn't it liberating to be in a place like New York after being somewhere so drab?"

"Yeah." Blaine didn't feel liberated at all. He was still playing a game of hide and seek where he locked himself in the closet, never wanting to be found. A change of scenery didn't mean anything, Blaine would always be a prisoner to himself, and he knew it.

"On to my next question," Elle said.

"Is this an interview?"

"Yes." She grinned. "You're vying for the spot of most eligible bachelor," Elle leaned in and stage whispered behind her hand, "but between you and me, you have no competition."

"That's good to know," Blaine played along.

"What brought you to New York?"

"College. Columbia."

"Oh, a scholar?" Elle said, lifting her eyebrows in impressed intrigue. "What did our genius go to those ivy-covered walls for?"

"This sorry bastard went for economics," Blaine said grimly.

"I'm sorry I asked," Elle said, her smile disappearing.

"No, I'm sorry." Blaine scrubbed at his face with his hand. "It wasn't a bad experience at all, it was just where my father went, so, I'm sure you know how it is."

"I'm sure it was worth it for the value of the education."

"Of course, and now I work at the prestigious bank of JPMorgan Chase, handling loan accounts," Blaine said. "It's exciting work."

"It sounds like it," she said, returning his sarcasm. "So, you care a lot about what your dad thinks, huh."

"Yeah." Blaine lifted his glass to drink the last sips of his beer almost out of reflex.

"My shift is almost over," Elle said. "Do you want me to call a cab? We could share it. You'll need to know where to pick me up tomorrow anyway."

"Yeah, I think it's probably a good idea to get home. I need to be energized for tomorrow."

"This was kinda like a first date right here," Elle said, rising from her seat. "That would technically make tomorrow our second date, and there could be a kiss in it for you."

Blaine felt heat trickle up into his already warm face, and his eyes strayed to Kurt's lipsticked mouth. Elle - he could kiss Elle goodnight, and, oh, how he had longed to place his hands on her, on Kurt...and then Blaine closed his eyes tightly, swallowed thickly, and then looked back at Elle with a small nod.

-s-

"This is me," Kurt said as the cab pulled over at the curb.

"Huh?" Blaine glanced around the dark interior of the car until his eyes rested and focused in on the man beside him.

"My apartment, silly," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's hand with a quick, gentle squeeze before letting go just as quickly. Kurt pulled a twenty from his wallet and stuffed it into Blaine's limp, heavy hand, closing his fingers around it. Then he opened the door to climb out.

"Goodnight, Blaine," Kurt said just before closing the door.

"'Night."

His world was swimming in and out of focus, but once he stepped out into the cool night air at the cab's final destination, Blaine's head felt a little clearer. He recognized his apartment building and made his way inside for the evening, albeit with little to no grace.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine was glad that he'd remembered Kurt's address from the night before despite his sloppy state. He could barely remember what he had said to him, although he remembered feeling embittered and rambling on about something in response to Kurt's questions, which made him wonder whether or not he had scared Kurt off.

He shot Kurt a quick text to make sure the date was still on, and Kurt sent back a smiling emoji. Blaine figured he must not have said anything too bad.

Nothing in Blaine's closet seemed good enough to take Kurt out, and after pulling it apart and making his bedroom resemble a war zone, he found himself at Bloomingdale's, splurging on a new designer suit, shoes, and bow tie. Once he was standing in front of his mirror back at home, fully garbed in his new ensemble, Blaine began to feel giddy about what was to come, like a child going to their first birthday party, or on their first trip to the zoo.

-s-

Blaine held his breath as he lifted his fist to knock on the apartment door. He rocked nervously back and forth until he heard the chain slide on the other side and the door swung open. Kurt was as beautiful as ever, but he supposed this was Elle standing before him. She wasn't dressed as flashy as she had been for her shows, which Blaine was grateful for. Her toned down look was Marilyn in classic Audrey Hepburn clothing. He was dolled up just enough to shine as brightly as he did on the stage and for Blaine to do a double take. It was unmistakable that the person standing before him was his date, Kurt Hummel - only not.

"You look handsome as ever, darling," Elle said. "Is that Hugo Boss?" she asked, lightly grasping and tugging on the left lapel of his jacket before patting it down and smoothing it out again.

Blaine had to think for a second. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"I know my designers - especially the men -, and you look fantastic wearing him. Not as good as you'll look wearing me, of course." Elle slipped her arm into the crook of Blaine's, and they began to make their way to the cab waiting and idling at the curb.

The cab ride over was tense but short, and when they arrived at Buvette, Blaine was glad that he had made reservations. It was a small place, and it was packed. The bar was full, and the two of them were lead to a table toward the back and in a corner, but privacy didn't seem like a thing in this place. The tables were small but packed closely together, and they were practically bumping elbows with the people seated at the tables around them. Blaine wondered how much attention people would be paying him, and it made him feel nervous.

He made sure to pull out the chair for Kurt and allowed him to order the wine he wanted. Blaine imagined this wouldn't be much different than dating an actual woman, and he was almost certain that everyone in the place was fooled.

He watched intently as Elle lifted up the wine menu, her seemingly starlit eyes dancing across the fancy names of the various vintages, until she pressed a finger against one.

"Is white wine okay?" she asked.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, that sounds good. Whatever you want."

The server approached the table, and Elle ordered with confidence, "We'd like to begin with a bottle of Beaujolais Blanc, please." Blaine was amazed by how easily the French rolled off Kurt's tongue, and he found it to be a bit of a turn on. But he shook his head as if to dislodge those dangerous thoughts. The server nodded and departed to retrieve the bottle.

Blaine wondered if he hadn't noticed anything amiss about the situation, for he had turned directly toward Elle in a ladies-first manner to place the drink order. He felt slightly relieved when the server returned and poured out their glasses without so much as a waver in expression or behavior.

"Are you ready to order?" the man asked, this time addressing Blaine.

"Yes," he spoke up. "But ladies first," he actually forced himself to say just to test the waters, and the server nodded and smiled in compliance. Elle grinned at Blaine, a curious twinkle in her eye, before making her selection. When it was Blaine's turn, he could feel eyes on him, studying him, penetrating, and he began to grow nervous all over again.

Blaine shifted in his seat. "So, you never told me where you got the name Elle. Isn't a name a big thing for - performers like yourself?" He took a sip of his wine, his eyes still trained on his date.

"Oh, honey, please tell me you're an avid consumer and lover of all things Broadway, or this might not work between us," Elle said, a pout upon her face.

"It _is_ from Wicked then. I wasn't sure," Blaine said, looking sheepish. He swirled his glass around and then lifted it to his lips again.

"Phew, you had me worried there for a moment. I was almost going to have to revoke your gay card."

Blaine noisily shifted his silverware on the table after nearly choking on his wine. His eyes shifted to and fro as he tried to gauge whether or not the people around them had heard Kurt. No one seemed to be looking or paying them any attention.

"Yes, Elle Fabala is my tribute to Elphaba, but I'm so much more fabulous," she said with her signature wink.

"You are. Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight? Like old Hollywood chic," Blaine said.

He watched a blush rise to Kurt's cheeks. "Thank you. I was channeling my inner Jackie O, only updated, of course," he said.

"You wear it well," Blaine said, not really thinking.

Elle considered Blaine, her chin set delicately upon the tips of her steepled fingers, hands perfectly manicured and soft, yet still too large to belong to a woman. The light rouge on her cheeks and expertly done makeup topped off the illusion, but it couldn't possibly be convincing everyone, could it?

Blaine became increasingly aware of these subtleties, the undeniably male features, the body language that might give her away, might reveal Kurt through the facade and expose him, and this, for what it really was. He felt himself begin to perspire, his eyes darting from one table to another, attempting to discern the expressions of the other patrons and gauge whether suspicion had arisen. He was so distracted that he didn't hear Elle speaking and was startled when she fell silent and then snapped her fingers in front of him before waving a hand in front of his face to bring his attention back.

"I asked you a question," she said. "I feel like I'm losing you. Am I boring you?"

"Oh, no, sorry. Not at all. Go on, what was the question?" But Blaine almost immediately zoned out again, instead tuning in to the hushed conversations occurring at the surrounding tables, hoping they weren't talking about him. He was lost inside his own head, his paranoia taking a hold of him, until Kurt spoke, his voice accusatory and a bit harsh.

"Do you like me, Blaine?"

"Huh? Do I -? Of course I like you," he said, flustered and caught off guard.

"Do you like _me_, Blaine?" Kurt asked again, his voice deeper and very much Kurt and not Elle. "Do you like Kurt?"

"What kind of question is that?" he said, growing defensive.

"A completely valid one. I don't feel like I'm on a date with you right now, seeing that you seem more interested in everything and everyone but me."

"Elle, I - come on. That's not fair -"

"No, I think I know what's going on."

"What?! You do? I mean, wh-what are you talking about?"

"You're terrified to be on this date right now. I can see it in your eyes, in your body language. You're uncomfortable, and I think I know why. You didn't ask me out as Elle because it's a kink, you asked me out as Elle because it was a way of saving face."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, attempting to deny everything, but he had never felt more like a cornered animal staring down the barrel of a gun.

"You know, honesty is a very attractive quality in a man. Why don't you just come out and tell me the truth."

"Honesty? Truth? Who are you to preach to me about honesty? You live a double life, have this false persona, for crying out loud." Blaine didn't know where it was coming from or why he'd been unable to keep from blurting it out, but he knew once the words left his mouth that the jig was up. He'd made a terrible mistake.

Kurt's jaw dropped, and he scoffed, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're being a hypocrite - _Elle_," Blaine said.

"That's it." Kurt lifted his napkin from his lap, threw it forcefully down onto the table, and rose from his seat.

"What are you doing?"

"There's one thing you got right about me, and it's that I have this other persona. But I'm anything but false. All of this is real, all of this is me," he said, his voice rising steadily. "And if you can't handle it, then you don't deserve me. This -?" Kurt reached up and began to unpin his wig.

"No -" Blaine reached forward as if he could stay Kurt's hand, but it was too late.

The entire restaurant fell silent, and Blaine knew that all eyes were now on the disaster unfolding in the corner, like a car wreck happening in slow motion, and he felt like he was center stage in a burning, blinding spotlight, every last one of his flaws visible and magnified. His face was beginning to burn. Blaine was mortified.

"_This_ is me. _This - I'm Kurt Hummel_, and I'm proud of who I am." He hesitated, taking in a deep, shaky breath. And then his voice dropped down into a raspy whisper. "Let me know when you can say the same."

The last thing Blaine saw was a flash of the skirt of Kurt's dress as he stormed out of the restaurant.

It was like his head was filled with static, his eyes beginning to burn from tears of humiliation. Blaine rose from his chair, pulled a few large bills from his wallet, dropped them onto the table, and then bolted out the front door of Buvette.


	6. Chapter 6

God, he had fucked it up. He'd fucked everything up, and now he wasn't sure how to pick up the pieces after the wreck he'd just caused. He was humiliated, guilt-riddled, and was finding it hard to breathe and catch his bearings.

Blaine sat there on the bench, head hung and hands balled into fists, so tight his knuckles were turning white and his fingernails were digging into his palms. He'd walked, almost ran several blocks, not stopping until he was at the park in his neighborhood.

Kurt was right about everything: He wasn't proud of who he was.

Blaine was a coward and a liar.

-s-

Blaine pounded on the door, several desperate strikes on the wood, hoping beyond hope that Kurt would answer it. He stood there for a few more minutes before lifting his fist to knock again, but this time he slapped an open palm against the door and his head dropped forward against it, his forehead flattened against the door.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine nearly sobbed, feeling himself breaking down and unable to breathe. "Please answer the door and let me in. I was wrong, I was so wrong, and you were right. You didn't deserve that and -"

The door swung open and he almost fell forward but regained his balance in time to look up and meet Kurt's face. It wasn't the fabulous, feminine, Elle, it was just Kurt. Kurt who was an adult, a man who Blaine had taken advantage of and made a fool of. A man who Blaine was too afraid to be seen in public with because he was too afraid of what people would think of him, too afraid of people knowing the truth.

Yet, as Blaine stood there staring at Kurt in his underclothes, looking like he had just changed and washed all the makeup from his face, his eyes a little red-rimmed, he knew that there was nothing more in the world that he wanted, no one he wanted to be standing across from at this very moment. He wanted to be unafraid to reach out and touch him, to be able to publicly declare that this was the man - yes, man - who he wanted to be with. The silly ruse he had been playing had been hurting no one but himself. Until now.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore," Blaine said, almost a whisper, his voice strangled with emotion.

"Come inside. You look a mess," Kurt said, gently taking hold of his arm and leading him into the apartment so he could close the door. "Sit. Can I make you tea or something?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, don't do anything for me. Please."

"But -" Kurt sighed resignedly. "Alright." He gestured toward the couch, but Blaine just shook his head again, remaining standing and refusing any and all hospitality. He didn't deserve for Kurt to be so kind to him, not after what he had done.

"I'm so sorry." Blaine was choking on the saliva gathering in his throat, and he let out a spluttering cough.

"I know. I forgive you," Kurt said calmly, his eyes exuding concern. "But I think I deserve to know what's going on with you."

Blaine was quiet for a long moment, gathering himself, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. "No one knows I'm gay, Kurt. Only my one friend Jeff knows, and it took me forever to tell him."

"I wasn't sure, but I figured as much."

"For some reason I got it into my head that taking you out as Elle would be okay because all people would see was a young, stunningly beautiful woman on my arm, sitting across from me, sharing my dessert, and they wouldn't think anything was wrong with me. Like, the idea was so crazy that it might even work."

"So it wasn't about a kink," Kurt said, crossing his arms.

"No, it wasn't. It was about a poor, pathetic man acting like a child and trying to stay hidden in the closet."

"That's tough." Kurt began to shake his head. "You're wrong about yourself, Blaine. There is nothing wrong with you, and you're not pathetic. I wish you didn't tear yourself down like that. God knows there are plenty of people out there in the world who'll do it for you, but screw them. I know how difficult it is to come to terms with your sexuality, especially when the world around you looks at you differently because of it. It's not my place to judge you, and you can trust that I'm not. But you can't keep living your life like this. It's like poison, not allowing yourself to feel the things you want - that you need to feel, and eventually the damage will be too much."

Blaine's bottom lip trembled as hot tears rolled down his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed. When he opened them again, it was like it was just now dawning on him that he was inside Kurt's apartment with him alone. Suddenly the air felt thicker, warmer even as he stood only feet away from this man who was watching him curiously, almost cautiously as if Blaine was a small woodland creature about to startle and bolt.

Kurt stepped forward and grabbed Blaine's hand. His instinct was to recoil, but he felt too weak to resist. Kurt ran the pad of his thumb across Blaine's cheek, wiping away the tears, and Blaine blinked hard, feeling more pour down from the tenderness of the touch. Kurt ran his hand around to the back of Blaine's head, resting his thumb in front of his ear, and just held him.

Blaine tilted his head upward to gaze into Kurt's eyes. He was so close now that he could feel his hot breath on his face, and Blaine's heart began to hammer in his chest.

"You can keep fighting this, or you can give into it," Kurt said. He leaned in and brought his mouth to Blaine's, and Blaine closed his eyes in response. He could fight it, but giving in was ecstasy, a glorious release, and then he relaxed and allowed his lips to part as Kurt continued to kiss him with such great care as if he was trying to kiss Blaine's pain away.

Kurt pulled away, and Blaine opened his eyes.

"I understand all of your fears, believe me." He leaned in again, this time slowly mouthing along Blaine's jawline and trailing hot kisses down Blaine's neck and around his ear, causing Blaine to shiver. "But this -," Kurt said in between kisses. He wrapped large, strong hands around Blaine's waist and pulled him closer. "This is what you want," he continued. "This is what you'll miss if you go on like you are." Kurt's hands traveled up Blaine's chest, and nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his jacket. Blaine trembled at the touch, the heat of the kisses, the music of Kurt's voice in his ear.

And then his bow tie was undone and dress shirt was nearly unbuttoned and already hanging loosely from his shoulders off of which Kurt had pushed it to begin kissing along them and the skin stretched taut over his collarbone. He slid his hands under the shirt and around Blaine's back, pushing the shirt and jacket completely off and allowing them to fall to the floor.

Blaine was waiting for the danger sign to flash menacingly in his head, but this time all there was was blankness and the sparks of pleasure traveling up and down his body with each kiss on his now exposed skin, as if Kurt's lips had ignited every nerve in his body. Before he could stop himself, he was moaning pitifully.

Kurt's lips dragged up his abdomen, and then Kurt rose to his full height again. He took hold of Blaine's wrists and tugged him along toward his bedroom, and Blaine, knowing exactly where this was leading, allowed himself to be pulled along.

This was who he was. He wasn't going to fight it anymore.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't feel comfortable," Kurt spoke by his ear. He sat down on the edge of the bed, Blaine's hands now clasped with his, their fingers slotted together, as Blaine stood before him.

"I want this, Kurt," Blaine said, his voice quivering, almost pleading. "Please."

And then Kurt pulled him down onto the bed, grabbing his waist and gently hoisting him to turn him around. He edged his way up the bed, guiding Blaine until his head was on the pillows. Blaine wasn't sure what Kurt was planning to do, but he wasn't sure that he even cared. What was about to happen would change everything for him, and he wanted nothing but to surrender to it all. He was ready.

"Can I?" Kurt asked, his hand resting just above the zipper of Blaine's dress pants, and Blaine nodded emphatically, biting his lip in anticipation, feeling himself growing hard and straining against his constricting clothing.

Kurt made quick work of his pants and then his hands were back on Blaine, resting on his hips, his thumbs tracing along the v-shaped dip. Kurt ran a finger under the elastic band of Blaine's boxer briefs, and Blaine threw his head back into the pillows, unable to look down for fear of losing it right then and there at the lustful look in Kurt's smoldering eyes, wanting only to feel whatever Kurt was going to do. Kurt tugged Blaine's underwear down, carefully rolling them off his legs, and tossed them to the side of the bed before crawling up the bed and joining his mouth with Blaine's again.

The unexpected contact had Blaine humming into his mouth, and Kurt chuckled and then moaned when Blaine's hips jerked upward and his erection brushed against his leg. Kurt sat up and quickly pulled off his undershirt. Blaine lay sprawled out before him on the bed, completely open and completely vulnerable, and all Kurt wanted was for Blaine to experience what it truly meant to be what he was. And he wanted him to know it was okay - it was more than okay - it could be amazing.

"_Oh_," Blaine said as Kurt wrapped his lips around the head of Blaine's cock. His tongue darted out and teased at the underside before he wrapped his hand around the base and sank down onto Blaine, taking all of him into his mouth.

Every little sensation was like a firecracker exploding inside Blaine's brain.

Blaine had received blow jobs before, but not like this, never like this. While Kurt worked him up and down, licking and sucking and listening to all Blaine's noises to find exactly what he likes, Blaine tried his best not to thrust up and into Kurt's mouth. He tried to fight off all the voices in his head that told him this was wrong and what would his father think and how would his coworkers treat him for being such a filthy f -

"_Kurt_," Blaine moaned, reaching down to grab and twist Kurt's hair between his fingers. "Oh my _god_." His hips jerked upward as he came into the wet heat of Kurt's mouth, shuddering through his orgasm. Kurt didn't let up on the suction until he was sure Blaine was completely finished and lay on the bed boneless, breathing heavily.

"You are a gay man, Blaine Anderson," Kurt spoke softly with a giggle, cuddling up next to him. But then he grew more serious. "You need to accept yourself for who you are. You need to allow yourself to be happy, because you're the only one who has to live your life."

Blaine felt Kurt wrap strong arms around him, and then his erection pressed up against Blaine's thigh through his pajama pants. "Oh no, I'm not being fair," Blaine said.

"What? Oh," Kurt said, realizing Blaine's source of worry. "It's okay. You don't have to -"

"I want to, but I'm not sure how," Blaine admitted.

"It's all the same equipment as your own," Kurt teased. "I know this is all new to you, so I'll guide you if you want."

"Can you lay back?" Blaine asked, rolling over and pulling himself up on his hands and knees. "I want to look at you. I want - I want to touch you."

"Yeah," Kurt said breathily, laying back in the center of the bed.

Blaine hesitantly pressed a palm to Kurt's chest and then ran a finger across his nipple, reveling in the way it hardened at his touch and how Kurt's breath hitched and chest rose ever so slightly. His skin was so warm and so smooth, and Blaine couldn't help but place his other hand on Kurt and trail them down to his abdomen and back up to his chest again.

"I feel like I'm seventeen again," Kurt said, letting out a quick nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry - this must be so weird for you," Blaine said.

"No, not at all. It's actually kinda...cute," Kurt said earnestly. "You're cute."

"God, now you're making me feel like a child," Blaine said, getting flustered.

"Oh, no!" Kurt reached up and took Blaine's face in his hands. "Please don't feel that way. I guess I'm not helping to make this any less awkward for you. I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay," Blaine said, leaning in close to Kurt until he was resting his forehead against his. "I think you're cute, too. But I also think you're handsome, gorgeous, sexy, beautiful..."

Kurt brought his mouth to Blaine's and silenced him with a kiss. "You flatter me, and you sure do know a lot of adjectives, but I'm really so very lucky," Kurt said after pulling away.

Blaine's brow furrowed at the comment. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm the one you chose to share this moment with."

Blaine grinned and bashfully turned away before promptly kissing Kurt again, sucking on his bottom lip until Kurt let out a guttural moan. He ran his hand back down Kurt's chest and farther down until his fingers were grasping the waistband of his pajama pants. He took a deep breath and pulled them down gently, but not without help from Kurt who arched his back and lifted his bottom to wriggle out of them.

Kurt wasn't wearing underwear, and Blaine drew in a sharp breath at the sight of Kurt, now only half-hard, but it was something Blaine had never expected to find so arousing. He wanted to make Kurt feel just as good as he'd made him, and he wanted to taste him, but he knew he didn't know what he was doing and was afraid he'd be terrible or possibly even hurt Kurt. So he wrapped his hand around Kurt's cock and heard Kurt gasp, his body rising a little, back arching in response to the touch.

Blaine knew it couldn't be much different than when he pleasured himself, so he began to move his hand, stroking up and down as gently as possible, and he could feel Kurt grow harder in his hand until he was completely erect. Blaine licked his lips and then continued to pump his fist up and down, increasing his grip a bit.

"Is this okay?" Blaine asked nervously.

"It's more than okay," Kurt managed through a keening moan. "You have magic hands."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better about all this. Don't lie to me," Blaine said, and then he lowered his head and dared a lick at the tip where precome was gathering, the salty yet not unpleasant taste surprising him.

"Oh my _god_, okay," Kurt whimpered. "I'm not lying, and you, sir, should just keep doing what you're doing and stop doubting yourself. Relax," he said.

Blaine took a deep breath before continuing to jerk Kurt off, listening for all the sounds that would indicate he was doing something right, and much to his delight they were numerous and gradually rose in volume. It didn't take long before Kurt was thrusting up into his fist and begging him to go faster, and Blaine worked him until he was coming over his hand and onto his stomach.

Before Blaine could even search the room for something to clean up with, Kurt was already sitting up and making use of the tissues by his bed and tossing them in the wastebasket with ease.

"Are you staying the night?" Kurt asked, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze at Blaine. "Never mind, let me rephrase that. Will you stay the night? I want you to."

"I - yeah," Blaine said without giving it much thought. He didn't have anywhere to be the following morning, and he hoped he could hold Kurt and hold onto the blissful moment as long as possible.

"Good," Kurt said, laying back and crossing his hands over his stomach. "Because I'm not ready to part yet." He turned his head to the side. "And please don't get up in the middle of the night and leave me to wake up to a cold bed, because I don't think I could handle that." Blaine could hear the teasing in his tone, but he knew there was truth and a hint of fear in the statement.

"How did you - how did you get so brave?" Blaine asked, and Kurt sat up again, alert and concern etched in every feature.

"It wasn't always like this for me," he began. "There was a point where I was terrified to come out. I even pretended to date a girl in my high school - a cheerleader - in attempt to fool everyone and possibly to fool myself. It didn't work, of course. Eventually I came out, knowing that the truth would set me free. I felt so much better afterwards."

"You came out in high school...?"

"Yeah, and you better believe that I paid for it. I became way too acquainted with the school dumpster, the feel of the metal of lockers against my body every time I was shoved into one, and I've heard every gay joke and been given every humiliating nickname imaginable." Kurt shook his head. "But it's something that can't be helped, the ignorance of other people. All I could do was learn to love and accept myself, and I found that people began to accept me too, even if they didn't really understand."

"I feel like even more of a prick now," Blaine said.

"_Blaine_," Kurt warned. "You're not me, and that's okay. We've had different experiences. You can't keep hating yourself for being you and for making the decisions that you did. I know you had your reasons."

"Can you hold me?" Blaine asked, so quiet it was almost solely air that passed his lips.

"I would love nothing more than to hold you," Kurt said, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile. He threw his arms around Blaine's shoulders and pulled him down into the bed beside him. Blaine rolled over and Kurt pulled him toward him until he was nestled up against Kurt's bare chest, the heat of his skin and steady beat of his heart soothing Blaine until he allowed his eyes to fall shut.

"So," Blaine began, his voice deep and almost gravelly.

"So, what?" Kurt said softly, a smile playing at his lips.

"So how did you get into...I mean, I know you told me before, but when did you decide to become a drag queen? Like, I feel like there's more to it than just enjoying wearing women's clothing."

Kurt chuckled lightly. "It's kinda difficult to say, to be honest. I guess it started in high school when I wasn't allowed to sing girl songs. Now I literally make a living singing girl songs and looking fiercer than all those show choir divas and cheerleading prom queens. I can be me, when I want to be and feel masculine and comfortable in my skin, but then I'm like a superhero. By night, I transform. I'm a femme fatale."

"It seems like you really broke away from who you were in high school."

"Yeah, I really have. I've always had an inclination toward fine, feminine fashion, but as I said before, wearing what I liked was risky, and singing what I liked was as well. My asshole peers even voted me prom queen to humiliate me, but it turns out that the joke was on them."

Blaine hummed in agreement. "You're better than a prom queen," Blaine ventured. "You're a killer queen."

Kurt began to hum the familiar tune, Blaine joining in quietly, and then they laughed. With a sigh, Kurt tucked his chin in against Blaine's shoulder, a calm quiet and stillness settling in the air around them, and they allowed themselves to succumb to sleep, tangled up comfortably in each others' arms.

-s-

It wasn't in the plan, not that Blaine had planned for any of this, but when he woke up just before the sun, Blaine carefully and reluctantly climbed out of the bed, leaving an unconscious Kurt reaching out at the emptiness beside him. The first thing on his mind, the thought that woke him up with a start, was that he needed to get going, he needed to take care of himself, to settle something that had been unresolved for too long.

Blaine made his way through the apartment, careful not to disturb anything, gathering up his clothing where they had been discarded, and pulling them on. Upon the dining table was a notebook and pen on which Kurt had written his grocery list. Blaine popped the lid off the pen, flipped to a clean page, and hesitated for a moment before touching the tip to the paper. He quickly scrawled a message upon it, tore out the paper, tiptoed back into the bedroom where Kurt was thankfully still peacefully asleep, and left it on the nightstand.

He really hadn't planned for it, or any of what had happened between them, but if he wanted any of the night they'd spent together to happen again - and he did, he wanted it all - , he knew that he would have to rid himself of what was impeding him, keeping him closed off emotionally. And the only way he could properly begin was by going back to the beginning.

-s-

Kurt awoke to a cold bed despite his plea the previous night, and he let out a tired, heavy sigh. When he noticed the clichéd letter on the nightstand, he unenthusiastically picked it up and set it in his lap.

_**Dearest Kurt,**_

_**I'm sorry I left you, but I hope you'll understand why. Last night was amazing and life-changing for me, and I know now what I need to do and that I can never go back. I want to be with you, Kurt. But you deserve better. You deserve honesty and unconditional love, something I can't give you until I figure all my shit out. I'm going home to Ohio. I'm going to tell my family. I promise I won't come back until I can give you me and only me, all of me without all the smoke and mirrors and foolish games.**_

_**Yours Truly,**_

_**Blaine**_


	7. Chapter 7

Rain splattered the windows and the windshield of the rental, and Blaine focused on breathing as he pulled into the driveway of his parents' house. Because if he hadn't been concentrating so hard, he was afraid he'd start hyperventilating. When he realized how tight his grip on the steering wheel was, he loosened it and withdrew his hands, flexing his fingers and staring blankly down at them near his lap.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that he could never have prepared for this, but he had no other choice but to go through with it, or the trip back would all be for naught.

Blaine was twenty-four years old, had been out in the real world on his own for quite some time now, but just going back and being in the presence of his childhood home and all the memories tied to it made him feel small again, like he was coming home from a long day at school needing nothing more than a warm embrace from his mother and something warm to fill his belly and quell the emptiness inside.

And now, as he sat out in the car under the gloomy, inky sky that relentlessly battered his shelter, he killed the engine and prepared himself to exit the vehicle and enter into the storm.

When he swung open the door and the rain hit Blaine's skin, his first instinct should have been to run, to hurry toward the entrance and shelter of the house where he'd be dry and warm, but instead he closed the car door behind him and stood in place just outside its confines, allowing the rain to pour down on him. It pummeled his face and hair, breaking through his gel and running down his forehead and his cheeks in thin rivulets, and he closed his eyes. And he breathed.

It was the storm that awaited him inside the house that he dreaded far more.

Blaine took a few soggy steps through the puddles in the driveway, not caring how the water seeped into every pore, soaked every fiber of his clothing, and added weight to his body, making each step of his trek across the lawn heavier, more taxing.

When he finally reached the steps and knocked on the door, he felt like he'd been pulled under by a riptide and tossed about by the unforgiving ocean. The salt from the rain left a taste in his mouth reminiscent of one of the only times he had been to the beach as a child and soon learned the wild, unpredictable ways of the waves.

"Blaine." Her voice was small and tinged with surprise.

"Mom," Blaine said, hanging his head and finally taking in the state of his dress.

"Come in!" She grabbed his arm and then placed her hand on his back to guide him inside the front door. Blaine stood on the mat, dripping buckets and afraid to take even a fraction of a step further into the house. And then his mother pulled him into a hug, made awkward by her attempt to avoid becoming soaked herself but still wanting to hold her son.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said as she pulled away and looked him up and down.

"It's okay, just - oh, I just cleaned the floors. I'll go get you some dry clothes -"

"No, Mom, it's fine -"

"Stay here. I'll be right back." She scampered off despite his protestation, and Blaine rolled his eyes before bending down to remove his shoes. Moments later, Mrs. Anderson returned with an outfit that must have belonged to her husband, Blaine's father.

"I -"

"Blaine. Go change. Hurry along to the downstairs bathroom," she said, and he pulled off his socks, took the clothing shoved into his arms, and did as he was told.

When he emerged from the bathroom in a pair of his dad's khakis and a polo, Blaine felt odd and uncomfortable, unnerved by the fact that he fit into his dad's clothing. He felt like a sheep in wolf's clothing, standing there, almost the likeness of a man whom he was nothing alike at all. But as he stood staring at himself in the hallway mirror, he shivered, wondering if maybe they had more in common than he thought.

Blaine sank down into a chair in the living room, catty-corner to the gratuitously-sized television and adjacent to a large, fake potted plant. Blaine tried his best to ignore the confusing aesthetic choices made by his parents as he sat there waiting for his mother's return while the woman fussed with his clothing to clean and dry them.

Upon her return, there was silence. Mrs. Anderson stood nearby, regarding him in a way that made him feel like she was currently x-raying him with her eyes. He was never very good at hiding things from his mother, save for his biggest secret of all. Blaine still wasn't sure how he'd managed that.

"You look tired. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Do you...do you need anything? Anything at all?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Blaine insisted more firmly this time.

"You don't look fine, Blaine."

At that, Blaine sighed, feeling drained now that he was seated. He didn't want to beat around the bush anymore, and there was no need to prolong the conservation that needed to be had.

"Relax, Mom. You can stop worrying about me. Please, just - sit. Please," he repeated. Hesitantly, she lowered herself onto the sofa, sitting upright and stiffly perched just on the edge. "I have something I need to tell you. I'm just not sure how."

His mother stared at him hard, her brow furrowing a bit, but she remained silent. And then she finally opened her mouth to say, "You got someone pregnant."

Blaine was taken aback, and, before he could stop himself, he began to laugh, from nerves and slight amusement. His mother shot him a look, clearly offended by his reaction.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laughing. No, no, that's not it at all. I didn't get anyone pregnant, Mom. Gosh, I haven't even been with a woman, and I don't have a girlfriend." Blaine could feel himself growing hot, his face was probably beginning to color red.

And although he was sure she'd be relieved by this news, his mother actually looked a little disappointed. Now Blaine felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach, and now he had to let her down even more.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Actually, there won't ever be a girlfriend in the picture." He hesitated before continuing, trying to decipher the look on his mother's face. "That's why I came here, that is, what I mean to say is...I'm gay, Mom."

His mother sat there, hands folded in her lap, expression unwavering. She said nothing, simply sat there in silence while Blaine's discomfort rose. Then she sprung up off the couch and practically threw herself on him, wrapping him in her arms, pulling him into a tight hug. His eyes shot open wide at the contact, but then he felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes, and he blinked, causing them to roll down his cheeks and onto her shoulder.

Blaine hadn't been expecting a reaction like that, hadn't known what to expect, and he still wasn't sure if that meant she'd taken the news well.

All she said to him was, "It's okay," as she continued to hold him like he was a child who'd just woken from a nightmare. "It's going to be okay."

Mrs. Anderson didn't speak a single word the remainder of the evening, that is, until his father returned home.

Mr. Anderson was startled and jumped when he saw Blaine seated there in his chair and in his clothing. It was uncanny, like he was looking at a mirror that reflected his younger self, but Blaine looked somehow defeated, older than he ought to. Blaine turned his head upon his arrival to see his dad standing there in the doorway, but he spoke not a word, simply nodded his head as if to acknowledge his son's presence, and then turned away to find his wife.

Blaine swallowed hard and clenched his fists before taking a series of deep breaths to rid the tension from his body. His father had always been more distant with him than he'd been with his older brother, and they'd never grown very close, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

He hadn't known how much time had passed before he turned on the television to finally have some background noise to not make him feel so crazy and alone and stuck inside his head. Halfway through a rerun of Criminal Minds, his parents sat down on the sofa, his father barely acknowledging him still, but his mother kept shooting him pitiful looks like he was a wounded animal. Blaine thought that perhaps she just didn't know how to feel about his confession.

The silence between them became too much, and after about the tenth look she shot his way, Blaine grabbed the remote from the arm of the chair, flicked off the television, and rose from his seat with a heavy sigh, turning toward his parents and crossing his arms.

"First of all, neither of you did anything wrong. Second of all, it's okay, Mom, this is not a bad thing. I'm happier than I've ever been."

"What is going on? What is he talking about, Catherine?" Blaine's dad finally spoke.

Blaine continued, "I met someone, and they're - _he's_ wonderful."

At that, Mr. Anderson shuddered and wore his almost tangible discomfort on his face. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me correctly, Dad. I've been keeping this bottled up for too many years, and if I never told you the truth. If I never just came out with it," Blaine paused and took a shaky breath, "then I don't know how much longer I could live with myself," he finished, his voice cracking on the final three words.

"Are you telling me you're a fa-" His mother's warning eyes shot daggers, and she gripped her husband's arm hard enough to compel a rephrasing. "You're telling me you've been with a man - you're gay - _my_ son is a homosexual?" His father's face was stony, and his voice almost too steady.

"Yes."

There was silence. Blaine's father looked conflicted, what seemed like anger boiled just below the surface. He looked away like he couldn't look at Blaine anymore, but then he looked back. "How long?"

"Since I was fourteen - that's how long I've known."

"Well, fuck."

Nervous laughter bubbled up from within and spilled out Blaine's mouth before he could stop it. He immediately tried to stifle it, knowing that it was terrible timing and could come across as mocking. There was no humor in the situation. The last thing he needed was to provoke his father's wrath.

"I don't know what to say. I have no words for you. But, how - why?" his dad asked.

"I wish I had an answer for you. I never asked to be what I am, but I am...I'm gay," he said, and it felt like it was already getting easier to say after the second time he'd said it aloud that day in his parents' house.

It was like there was static in the air, and a ringing started up in Blaine's ears as they sat there, staring each other down.

"Are you still working at JPMorgan?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No."

"Very well then."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay. Alright, well...good."

"Yeah. Good."

-s-

Shortly following dinner, Blaine stepped out onto the back porch, his phone gripped in his hand, wondering if he should call Kurt, anything to feel more at ease and reassure him that he'd done the right thing. Then his phone rang with an incoming call from his brother, and he answered it, not knowing what was in store for him.

"Mom told me everything," Cooper said, but Blaine couldn't read his tone. "She called me earlier."

"Let me explain -"

"No, you don't have to. Are you okay?"

"I - yeah. I think I am."

"Good, that's good. I was scared for you, Blaine, but you're strong. You're brave."

"I didn't feel that way, but thank you."

"I want you to know I'll always be on your side, no matter what. I don't think I need to worry about you, but if you ever need me, I'm here for you. Don't ever be afraid to call me."

"I won't. So, you're okay with all this? With how I am?"

"Of course I am. It doesn't make you any less of my little brother. If it's who you are, then it's what I have to accept. Why now, though? Is that okay to ask?"

"It's a valid question, and I guess the best answer is because I needed to, and because...I met someone, someone who is worth all of this."

"He must be. I don't think I've ever heard that tone in your voice before when talking about someone, and coming out to Mom and Dad was a fine price to pay for something - for someone."

"For love," Blaine said, as if correcting Cooper, but also almost to himself as if he was just realizing it.

"I'm really happy for you. I'm proud of you."

"Me too, Coop. Me too."

"Where is this guy? You didn't bring him along, did you?" There was a bit of panic in his voice.

"No, I know better. No, he's in New York...his name is Kurt."

"How did you meet him?"

Blaine laughed. "You'd never believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Blaine grinned. "Alright, I will. I met her in a club where she was performing -"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute...'her'? But you just told me you're gay and Kurt's a man. This doesn't make any sense."

"Kurt is a man, but I met her, Elle, in a club."

"I'm still not following...is Elle his sister or something? A best friend?"

"She's a queen."

"What? A queen...? _Ooh_."

"Yeah."

"Your man is a drag queen. Huh. Interesting. You know, no judgment here. I dated this chick once who kinda looked like a man."

"Coop, really?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know it's strange to most people and difficult to comprehend, and it's definitely been a wild ride."

"I bet it has."

"He's so good to me, good _for_ me. I've never met someone who was so comfortable with himself, so confident and strong, in my entire life. Knowing Kurt has given me an entirely new perspective on life and the strength to do what I did, to be open and honest. I don't think many people get so lucky. And, it's like, suddenly I see, this is it, this is everything - and you know what? I think I've been using Mom and Dad as an excuse. I don't even live near them anymore and haven't had to answer to them for years. Now I'm finally taking responsibility and taking care of myself. The hardest part was always knowing, always having that nagging feeling in my gut, sometimes felt like an illness in my brain, knowing that I was attracted to men but never allowing myself to act on it. Was it shame? I don't know. Maybe I never thought that I'd find someone. Maybe I thought I'd never have the security I needed, so I settled. But in reality I was sheltering myself and keeping myself from ever really knowing. And then I took a gamble. I met Kurt, and now I never ever want to go back to living like I was. I never want to know that feeling again of being trapped inside myself."

"I can't even imagine how it felt for you. I've always been lucky enough to live my life doing what I wanted, pursuing who I wanted, because it was viewed as normal. No one ever had a reason to question or judge me, but I get it. I'm sorry you've been going through that."

"No, don't be. I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because this is a new beginning. All of that is in the past, and I finally know what it means when they say 'the truth will set you free'."

"Isn't that from the Bible, Blaine? Are you still religious, even after all of, well, what's been going on with you?"

"Not really, but, now that you say that, it probably is something I heard as a child. That doesn't mean that it can't hold personal meaning for me. I still believe in something, sometimes, even though it's been years since I've even set foot in a church. I still have faith, and I know the world is cruel, but I want to believe that it's changing and that people will come around. All I can do is remain strong and true to myself until then."

"You're an incredible person, little brother. I mean it. And I hope you really mean everything you're saying, because you deserve to be happy. You always have."

"I mean all of it. Thank you for calling me. I feel so much better now. It's late here, though, and I have an early flight to catch tomorrow."

"Oh, shit. I wasn't even thinking. I'm so sorry, I'll let you go now."

"It's no problem, and, Coop?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for being there for me. I really need people like you on my side, I need my family on my side, and you make it so much easier for me to see that I made the right decision to come out."

"You did it all yourself, Blainey."

"I did, didn't I."

"Good night, and have a safe flight home."

"Thanks, and good night to you too."


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt was halfway through brushing his teeth when there was a knock on his door. He quickly spit and rinsed, the toothbrush clattering as he dropped it back into its ceramic holder. Towel still draped across his shoulders, Kurt made his way to the door, peering through the peephole before reaching up to pull back the chain and open the door, his heart racing at the sight of the man on the other side.

Kurt's eyes went first to the bountiful bouquet of brilliant, red roses, and then they flicked back up into the face of the man who had left him hanging, locking onto Blaine's golden eyes which spoke volumes in and of themselves without a single word needed to be uttered.

A grin slowly took over Kurt's face until he was nearly beaming while simultaneously trying not to tear up.

"I realized I, well, I never bought you those flowers I said I would," Blaine said, grinning bashfully.

Kurt giggled, his hand flying up to cover his mouth, because if he didn't laugh, he felt like he might cry. And then he reached out, grabbed Blaine's hand, and pulled him into the apartment, closing the door and locking them in together.

-s-

Kurt ran his hand through the dark curls on the head resting on his chest, a hot cheek pressed against his bare skin, the flutter of eyelashes occasionally raising goosebumps on his torso and arms.

Blaine breathed in deeply, closing his eyes to revel in the moment and enjoy the careful fingers raking through his hair, a sensation that he'd never known before but would love to never forget. With the world quiet and the darkness behind his lids, Blaine listened to the steady heartbeat resonating from within the warm, solid body acting as a pillow beneath his head, and he grinned. Suddenly, everything felt like it was in perfect balance. The war between his head and his heart had ended, and a peaceful calm had settled around the two men, washing over them in their blissful state.

As a yawn escaped him, Blaine ran a hand across Kurt's chest, listening to the way Kurt's breath hitched when he did so, and then wrapped it around his waist, pulling him in just a little closer to his body, knowing that there was no such thing as too close, that he could never be close enough.

Blaine had to wake up early the next morning and had a long day of work ahead of him, but for now he was perfectly content to remain wrapped up in the arms of a man, the man that now held his vulnerable heart in his hands. And Blaine trusted that he would keep it safe.


End file.
